Lost Echoes Quotes & Sayings

If you find yourself born in Barnsley and then set your sights on being Virginia Woolf it is not going to be roses all the way. — Alan Bennett

Ever notice how Christians quote the Old Testament more then the New Testament? That's so they can say mean things, talk bad about the queers and such. New Testament, that's the Christian book. The stuff in red, that's Jesus talk. That's what they're supposed to live their life by, but, no, they like the God of the Old Testament, the mean, judgmental one, before he was on Zoloft. — Joe R. Lansdale

I wouldn't overall say that The Diagnosis it's a funny book. I would say that it has comic moments. It's a modern tragedy. — Alan Lightman

A man's name, title, and rank are artificial and impermanent; they do nothing to reveal what he really is, even to himself. — Jean Giraudoux

When we stop pursuing God's purpose, our gifts and talent are misdirected. — Sunday Adelaja

If you know the right path, never keep it to only yourself! If you know the wrong path, never keep it to only yourself! — Mehmet Murat Ildan

Yet man dies not whilst the world, at once his mother and his monument, remains. His name is lost, indeed, but the breath he breathed still stirs the pine-tops on the mountains, the sound of the words he spoke yet echoes on through space; the thoughts his brain gave birth to we have inherited to-day; his passions are our cause of life; the joys and sorrows that he knew are our familiar friends
the end from which he fled aghast will surely overtake us also!
Truly the universe is full of ghosts, not sheeted churchyard spectres, but the inextinguishable elements of individual life, which having once been, can never die, though they blend and change, and change again for ever. — H. Rider Haggard

The universe is full of echoes and shadows, the afterimages and last words of dead civilizations that have lost the struggle against entropy. Fading ripples in the cosmic background radiation, it is doubtful if most, or any, of these messages will ever be deciphered. Likewise, most of our thoughts and memories are destined to fade, to disappear, to be consumed by the very act of choosing and living. That is not a cause for sorrow, sweetheart. It is the fate of every species to disappear into the void that is the heat death of the universe. But long before then, the thoughts of any intelligent species worthy of the name will become as grand as the universe itself. — Ken Liu

I'm terrible remembering lyrics. Before a tour, I have to remind myself. I have to go through the songs. — Ian McLagan

What you must realize, what you must even come to praise, is the fact that there is no right way that is going to become apparent to you once and for all. The most blinding illumination that strikes and perhaps radically changes your life will be so attenuated and obscured by doubts and dailiness that you may one day come to suspect the truth of that moment at all. The calling that seemed so clear will be lost in echoes of questionings and indecision; the church that seemed to save you will fester with egos, complacencies, banalities; the deepest love of your life will work itself like a thorn in your heart until all you can think of is plucking it out. Wisdom is accepting the truth of this. Courage is persisting with life in spite of it. And faith is finding yourself, in the deepest part of your soul, in the very heart of who you are, moved to praise it. — Christian Wiman

No sound, once made, is ever truly lost. In electric clouds, all are safely trapped, and with a touch, if we find them, we can recapture those echoes of sad, forgotten wars, long summers, and sweet autumns. — Ray Bradbury

But before I could get hold of my thoughts, another loud explosion tore through the air, crackling like a beast, our screams becoming lost in the echoes of terror. Loud crashes cameoming from every direction, enclosing us within it's catastrophic claws. Flames so high and wide, we were about to be devoured within the jaws of the fiery creature. I didn't give myself the time to hesitate for a second longer. I grabbed my two best friends, and hurled them down the stairs — Carlyle Labuschagne

If tears of sorrow are the echoes of things lost, what then are tears of joy? — Tyra Lynn

I'm just tired of everything ... even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes ... echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking. — L.M. Montgomery

Want to know what else he said?" Rafe put his lips near my ear. "That with the right guy, you'd turn wild"
I shoved him hard. He was laughing before he even hit the ground. I shot to my feet and glared at him. "You're disgusting — Kat Falls

I can never think of the time I spend idling in railway stations as lost; it's a waiting liberated from the three temporal vices of regret, anticipation or boredom, the weak echo of that bliss spent between lifetimes. — Eric Morecambe

In anything you set out to do, don't try your best. Do your best. — Ogwo David Emenike

It is as if the Caru'ee were able to perceive an echo of the past, and unconsciously, as they built upon a palimpsest of books written long ago and long forgotten, chanced to stumble upon an essence of meaning that could not be lost, no matter how much time had passed. — Ken Liu

Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains, And feeds her grief. — Percy Bysshe Shelley

It was funny that she should have said that, for Julian chose that moment to begin baaing like a flock of sheep. His one long, bleating "baa-baa-aa-aa" was taken up by the echoes at once, and it seemed suddenly as if hundreds of poor lost sheep were baa-ing their way down the dungeons! Mr. Stick jumped to his feet, as white as a sheet. "Well, if it isn't sheep now!" he said. "What's up? What's in these "ere dungeons? I never did like them." "Baa-aa-AAAAAAAAAAP went the mournful bleats all round and about. And then — Enid Blyton

If the United States were to cut and run from Iraq, we would send a message of weakness that would embolden our terrorist enemies across the globe. A failed Iraq would destabilize the entire region and undermine U.S. national security for decades to come. — Dennis Cardoza

He knew that these creatures were dead, that they were reanimated echoes who wore the disguise of the people they had once been, but Tom's words rang in his mind. They used to be people. How could he strike them? How could he hurt them? Children, women, old people. Lost souls. — Jonathan Maberry

Killing echoes inside you. It never goes away. Maybe some who have killed don't know that they've lost something, but they have. — Robert Jackson Bennett

Be self aware, rather than a repetitious robot — Bruce Lee

I spoke a word in anger
To one who was my friend,
Like a knife it cut him deeply,
A wound that was hard to mend.
That word, so thoughtlessly uttered,
I would we could both forget,
But its echo lives and memory gives
The recollection yet.
How many hearts are broken,
How many friends are lost
By some unkind word spoken
Before we count the cost!
But a word or deed of kindness
Will repay a hundredfold.
For it echoes again in the hearts of men
And carries a joy untold. — C.A. Lufburrow

There is only silence. A hollow silence for victors and losers all.
I am empty.
What do I do now? There was always a fear, always a concern, always a reason to hoard weapons and food, always a quest or trial. Now, nothing. Just the wind sweeping in over our battlefield. An empty battlefield filled only with echoes of things lost and learned. Friends. Lessons. Soon it will be a memory. I feel like a lover has died. I yearn to cry. Feel hollow. Adrift. I look for Mustang. Will she still care for me? — Pierce Brown

History is about longing and belonging. It is about the need for permanence and the perception of continuity. It concerns the atavistic desire to find deep sources of identity. We live again in the twelfth or in the fifteenth century, finding echoes and resonances of our own time; we may recognise that some things, such as piety and passion, are never lost; we may also conclude that the great general drama of the human spirit is ever fresh and ever renewed. That is why some of the greatest writers have preferred to see English history as dramatic or epic poetry, which is just as capable of expressing the power and movement of history as any prose narrative; it is a form of singing around a fire. — Peter Ackroyd